Читать книгу Wilderness Reunion - Elizabeth Goddard - Страница 12

ONE

Danger could lurk behind the beauty. She should know that better than anyone.

Slathered in insect repellent, Alice Wilde and her client had already hiked for three days into the Oregon mountains filled with bald eagles, waterfalls and huge, winding trees—oaks, pines and junipers—while they did their best to avoid poison oak.

This was called “roughing it” by any standard.

Marie had hired Alice to lead her on a hike in the wilderness—it had been on her bucket list, she’d said. Marie had wanted this off-trail adventure far from the overcrowded Rogue River forty-mile trail and the buzzing drones in the canyon.

Tens of thousands of designated wilderness acreage still remained to explore, not counting about a million acres of Siskiyou National Forest. They weren’t going to run out of places to explore anytime soon, which was something Alice loved about the area.

What she didn’t love? The heat, the sweat and the bugs she’d experienced during this brutal hike. She should be in a raft guiding other enthusiasts who’d come to the region to meet the white-water rapid challenge. Except Alice had never wanted to get in that river again after what had happened eight months ago. Someone had trusted her to guide him down the Rogue River through the hazardous rapids.

Rapids that had turned deadly. The man had died on her watch.

As if her thoughts had conjured the image of flowing water, she crossed a small creek—one that eventually emptied into the Rogue River miles away. Alice followed the brook upstream. Marie continued behind her, enjoying the quiet forest as they hiked. Her feet aching, Alice would need to look for a place to set up camp for the night.

She came across a PVC pipe and froze.

Someone diverted water from this brook. Totally illegal. And a bad sign.

Glancing back at Marie who viewed the unnatural sight with curiosity, Alice warned her in a soft whisper, “Stay here.”

“But the—”

Alice held a finger to her lips as she lowered her heavy pack to the ground. Pressed her palms down, signaling Marie to stay low. The woman crouched, frowning, with not a little anxiety in her eyes. Alice removed her weapon from its holster. As quietly as possible, she followed the black PVC pipe from the brook through the woods. When the pipe detoured away from the creek, she hunkered behind the thick trunk of a pine and peered through the bushy shrub growing at its base.

About a hundred yards away, through the dense forest, she could just make out an area where trees had been cut down.

Garbage—plastic bags and propane bottles—was strewn about.

And she could see the plants.

Rows and rows of plants.

Her pulse roared in her ears.

Marijuana.

Oh no!

She’d stumbled on an illegal growing operation. How big, she couldn’t know. Regardless, she had to escape before anyone spotted her.

Maybe it hadn’t been wise to follow the pipe, but neither would it have been wise to continue hiking without investigating. She didn’t want to lead Marie into danger that could get one or both of them killed.

Now she’d need to get the global position on her cell to mark the exact location to report to the authorities. Gripping her handgun and her cell, Alice crept backward then pivoted on her heels and ran straight into a man holding an automatic gun.

Her heart clambered behind her rib cage.

His face scrunched up. “Do I know you?”

In his fifties, silver weaved through his black hair and Van Dyke beard. Menacing dark eyes flashed at her. She’d seen him before, but where or when, she couldn’t remember. Panic incapacitated every thought. No time to respond. No time to think. All she could do was act.

She whipped her weapon up and aimed at his face. He didn’t seem worried in the least. She fingered the trigger and stepped sideways, giving herself a wide berth around him as she backed away from both him and the operation.

“Put your weapon down,” she said.

“I don’t think so.”

If Alice shot him, or even fired off her weapon as a warning, she would bring the rest of the illegal operation down on her and Marie.

His eyes narrowed. “I do know you.”

She couldn’t say the same.

Alice turned and dived into the foliage, her cell slipping from her sweaty fingers, and ran. Trees and bushes scratched her face, tore her clothes, and fear that any second she’d receive a bullet to her back accosted her. A smattering of shots ricocheted off the woods behind her. The shouts of many men bounced off the trees. She didn’t dare go back and retrieve her cell phone. It wasn’t worth her life.

Without slowing, she caught Marie by the arm and yanked her forward. Through her gasps, she said, “We have to run and keep running, Marie. Forget the bears and rattlesnakes. There’s something more deadly in these woods.”

* * *

Griffin Slater downshifted to slow his motorcycle—a silver-and-blue Suzuki Hayabusa—or Busa as he called it, and the fastest motorcycle in the world. Slowing the vehicle didn’t come naturally to him, but this hazardous, curvy mountain road was unmanageable at the speed he was going.

Dusk fell quickly in the woods and Griffin turned on his headlights. Two miles left before he arrived in Gideon, Oregon, in the Wild Rogue Wilderness. Weeks ago he’d contacted the sheriffs in various counties along the West Coast and informed them of his journalistic project regarding illegal marijuana grown on public land, so when his sheriff uncle called him to report a new lead, Griffin dropped everything to get there. As valuable as this could be for his story, he didn’t like to think this kind of activity had sprung up in the wilderness area in his uncle’s county.

The area surrounding Alice Wilde.

The fact that she’d been the one to stumble on the operation had plagued him. She could have been killed.

He’d driven in tonight because he’d wanted to get to Gideon ahead of his uncle who was coming from Gold Beach in the morning. Moisture bloomed on his hands at the thought of facing Alice for the first time since he’d walked away two years ago.

* * *

Rubbing her arms, Alice stared out the front window of her home.

You’re fortunate to be alive...

Sheriff Kruse’s words echoed through her. Once she and Marie had made it to a lodge where they could use the emergency radio, she’d immediately called the sheriff’s department. Alice had left her pack with the SAT phone behind on her frantic run from deadly bullets. Stupid, stupid. Then someone had driven her and Marie back to Gideon and Marie left to fly home to Missouri, where she would be safe from all this mess Alice had stumbled into.

As a trained wilderness guide, she knew the signs, knew what to look for and avoid, and yet she’d walked right into it, endangering herself and Marie. Her brothers, Cooper and Gray, would be more than furious when they found out. She didn’t even want to think about Dad’s reaction. She could almost be glad they were all out of town, but at the same time, she was terrified to be on her own.

The man in the woods claimed he knew her. Did he also know where she lived? Did her pack contain any identifying information? Then again, it probably wouldn’t be so hard to find out who she was or where she lived if he didn’t already know.

The sheriff wouldn’t arrive until the morning. Unfortunately, he had a large county and not enough deputies to go around. Alice had a long night ahead of her. She doubted she would do more than hold her weapon, stare at the ceiling and out the windows until dawn. Might as well get out of the house while there was a little light left in the day.

Grabbing a light jacket, she left the house and headed to Ricky’s Rogue Bar-B-Q. The place had practically burned down in the winter, but they’d built it back and put in a new and bigger kitchen. You could hardly tell anything had happened. At least she didn’t have to spend the first part of her evening alone.

Hiking the short distance to Gideon proper took her through the woods and brought back the trauma of the last few days of running, hiking, barely sleeping as they made their way out of the wilderness to civilization.

A shiver ran through her, and she picked up her pace.

On the street, she took comfort in the still-busy small town, the familiar faces, and headed to the restaurant.

And...sensed someone following her. Or was she being paranoid?

A chilly evening breeze swept past and Alice tugged the jacket tighter.

Footsteps.

She heard footsteps behind her. She again increased her pace.

The footfalls increased as well, keeping in rhythm with her.

Then she slowed, almost stopping. The person behind her did the same.

Heart hammering, Alice wanted to look over her shoulder to see who followed her, but she knew if she saw him—the man she’d seen in the wilderness—fear would paralyze her.

I do know you...

Who was he? His face had been familiar somehow, but living in a tourist town and running a tourist business, she couldn’t remember the name behind every face. She should turn and confront whoever followed her now. She palmed the weapon at her side, but residual fear from her narrow escape in the woods squashed her courage.

A few yards from her up the street, a figure dressed in leather stood next to a big blue motorcycle and tugged off his helmet, revealing a thick head of mussed hair. He turned and walked across the street toward her, filling her with a rush of relief. She didn’t know who he was, but maybe his sturdy presence would scare her stalker away.

Bolstered, she risked a glance over her shoulder and spotted someone ten yards back watching her, his face hidden by his hoodie. Goose bumps crawled over her, and she’d learned long ago never to ignore that sensation.

She turned her attention back to hurrying across the street toward the stranger.

Though...wait. Something about his cadence seemed familiar.

No. It couldn’t be.

But...it was.

Griffin Slater?

Her mind had to be playing tricks on her. She took in the broad shoulders, the trim, athletic physique. It was definitely him.

She rushed forward, putting more distance between her and the person behind her. As she hurried toward Griffin, emotions accosted her.

Anger and resentment along with a million questions.

She could still hear the footfalls, growing closer even as she practically jogged into the street toward Griffin. She hoped to leave her shadow behind. There was safety in numbers, after all.

She stopped just short of throwing herself into Griffin’s arms to find protection and comfort there. Breathing hard, she swiped a hand over her brow and stared at him. He took her in, too, and his appreciative gaze sent heat through her.

His slate-gray eyes always seemed to capture everything, just like his camera, only Griffin could see right through people, read them. Her heart pounded from her fear or from Griffin’s nearness, she wasn’t sure, but Alice hoped he couldn’t read her right now. She wouldn’t want him to know that he affected her one iota. That he’d caused an eruption of emotions, both good and bad.

“It’s really you. You’re not some figment of my imagination.” Had she really just said those words out loud? So much for hiding her emotions.

Her knees wanted to buckle. Was that from seeing Griffin or from yet another narrow escape from danger? She was such a coward not to face and challenge whoever had followed her, instead practically running into this man’s arms.

“Yes, it’s really me. Nice to see you again, Alice.” His gaze briefly flicked to the town behind her.

Had he spotted the man following her? She wanted to gauge his reaction but instead she blurted out, “So you just appear out of nowhere, after two years? Why are you here?” Alice wanted to kick herself, but she couldn’t help it. She wanted answers.

She risked a glance over her shoulder. The man slipped into the shadows between the buildings.